


The Half-life of Silk

by allochthonous (cynicalshoes)



Category: Primeval
Genre: M/M, Tie Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-27
Updated: 2012-12-27
Packaged: 2017-11-22 14:21:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/610764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cynicalshoes/pseuds/allochthonous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A piece of clothing connects thirteen moments in the lives of Connor and Lester.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Half-life of Silk

**December** \- Connor bought it for him their first Christmas and handed it to Lester from the modest pile under the tree ("We have to have a tree!") himself, eyes averted. Lester unwrapped it with half an eye on Connor’s expression, until the unexpected touch of silk under his fingers caught his full attention and he looked down in surprise.

The tie did not play noises, or flash LEDs, nor even was it pterodactyl patterned.

It was a rich, steel grey, and for a moment Lester thought suspiciously of all the times Connor had recently stared him deeply in the eyes. He ran his fingers over the material reverently, and the thought vanished.

**January** \- The first day he wore it his fingers took their time with the familiar motions of the half-windsor. The usual morning routine became almost surreal; he could feel the grain of the silk, cool and smooth, its strength as he tugged the knot taut, the play of the pale morning light across the curves and planes. He tucked the tie carefully inside his jacket as he did up the buttons, and turned just a moment too late to catch Connor watching from the doorway.

**February** \- Lester did not believe in Hallmark holidays, chocolates and flowers and stuffed animals and all that nonsense. When Valentine’s Day reared its head, Lester steadfastly refused all offers of cinnamon hearts, and did not distribute any garishly coloured cards. But he did make a point of wearing the tie. When the day ended, Connor cornered him in the car lot and ran his hand down the length of silk in a notion of appreciation. They made it home late.

**March** \- It was a source of personal (yet covert) pride that Lester had never missed a single day of work or school due to illness or injury. Of course, Lester’s occupational chance of injury was much lower back then, but he was not the sort to let a little sniffle keep him from his duties.

But the bug he had that Monday threatened to put an end to his closely held record. He was so lethargic that morning he even allowed some measure of Connor’s fussing, although he drew the line at having his temperature taken. He insisted it was nothing, a bit of congestion that would no doubt clear up in a few hours. He did, however, permit a disapproving Connor to straighten his collar, and fix the uncharacteristically sloppy knot of his tie.

A few hours later, he sagged dutifully in place as Connor did the reverse, folding the tie carefully over his arm before guiding a shuffling Lester to their room, where he crawled miserably back into bed.

**April** \- The tie spent two harrowing days at the dry cleaners, and Lester vowed to never drink coffee, juggle two phones and open new expense reports at the same time again.

**May** \- The compliment had been unexpected at best. Not exactly inconceivable-- "That tie really brings out your eyes, sir,"-- being not completely beyond the bounds of reason. Either age had softened him (unlikely), or Connor had had more of an effect on his work-place temperament than he’d realized. Especially if young laboratory assistants (whose name he didn’t even know) were brazen enough to speak to him in person, bizarre science staff hazing ritual or not.

**June** \- It was around his wrists, and then somehow secured to the headboard, and Connor was riding him, beautiful and sinuous and a fucking _tease_. The silk burnt against his skin when Connor rolled his hips, held him back when Connor leaned down to ghost his breath across Lester’s lips. Lester was left to curl his fingers around the material like it was flesh, and hope it didn’t give out before he did.

**July** \- The first time Lester wore the tie in public after... _that_ , he spent most of the day with a noticeable flush on his cheeks. Every time their eyes met, across a room, at a meeting, when Lester absently glanced out of his office, Connor gleefully took the opportunity to rub his wrists, flashing Lester his most innocent of smiles even as Lester fended off raised eyebrows.

That evening, after a shared meal during which Lester quietly schemed, he methodically taught Connor a little something about the touch of silk.

**August** \- It was too hot for a tie but Lester wore one anyway; someone in this madhouse must maintain a little decorum.

Half the SF team was shirtless in the atrium, running some kind of drill, because apparently they were all masochists (not to mention determined that no one else in the building should get any work done).

Lester was sweating in his office, considering the mechanics of drowning in a glass of water and considering the drastic step of undoing a button or two. Connor arrived with a knock and a flourish, pushing some wheeled contraption that may or may not have been a jury-rigged fan. Whatever it was, it would have given Health and Safety a heart attack, and it produced the most refreshing breeze imaginable.

Lester would have fallen to his knees in thanks, were he a man prone to such displays. Instead, Connor tugged him forward by the tie, demanding a kiss. Lester obliged. He was more of a hedonist, really.

**September** \- Lester was wagging a finger at Sid and Nancy and threatening them with life as a pair of shoes when Connor found him that Saturday morning. Their wardrobe had either spontaneously exploded or someone had searched it quite thoroughly, and Connor had only to follow the raised voice to find out who.

The tie was missing.

Lester had the decency to look properly abashed when Connor returned a minute later with the missing garment and explained that it must have slipped off Lester’s tie rack and fallen behind a rarely-moved shoebox and had not, in fact, been eaten. He even made Lester apologize to the _Diictodons_ before handing it over.

Lester mumbled something about how they’d really make a terrible pair of shoes anyway, snatched the tie from Connor’s hands and stalked back to the bedroom.

**October** \- There wasn’t much that left Lester speechless. Plenty of things might earn only a raised eyebrow, but that spoke volumes in itself. Genuine, mind-blank speechlessness was an entirely different beast.

For example, Connor muttering and fussing with the increasingly wilted-looking tie he was attempting to knot (it happened to be the only tie that suited what Lester deemed was Connor’s sole acceptable suit jacket) earned a raised eyebrow.

Lester’s reaction to Connor naked from head to toe-- save for the tie, that is, loosened and leading Lester’s gaze _down, down, down_ as Connor sauntered into the master bedroom after they returned from the Minister’s function-- that qualified as speechlessness.

**November** \- Sir James Lester does not panic, and he certainly does not suffer anything as ridiculous as panic attacks. But there he was, one shallow breath away from hyperventilating, his left hand settled waveringly over his chest (as if to make sure he was still whole), and the other clenched white-knuckle around what turned out to be a letter opener.

A creature got out. _Again_. A creature came after him. _Again_. Fortunately (for the creature, that is), this time Lester hadn’t gotten his hands on an M249 Paratrooper. Connor prised the impromptu weapon from Lester’s rigid hands, curled his fingers around Lester’s and mouthed reassuring words that Lester could not hear. Connor pulled at the knot of the tie, unravelling it gently until Lester felt he could breathe again. It hung loosely around his neck as his heart rate returned to normal, the aftershocks of adrenaline leaving him cold and shaky, except for the warm press of Connor’s fingers against his chest.

It was only then that he noticed the tear in his shirt, a fine line of skin barely broken and glistening with a few drops of red, and the frayed strands of silk, the fabric truncated by a jagged slash just below his sternum. The tie was ruined.

**December** \- Connor woke him with a kiss and the warm press of his body, and Lester smelled fresh coffee. There was a small pile of wrapped gifts at the foot of the bed. After a drawn-out kiss that Lester would have sworn left his lips tasting like peppermint, Connor handed him the first present from the pile with a knowing grin.


End file.
